I knew. It was how much the Wrights paid for Dustin.
“Ross proclaimed with the sale of Ava, he could leave academia behind and he and Lillian could move somewhere tropical.”
“Sick,” I said.
“Yes. Lillian went along with it because she loved him, but doubts were setting in, especially when he had her bring Corey McDaniel into the fold to do some of the dirty work and take some blame if caught.”
Corey McDaniel, who was now back in jail for parole violations, also had new charges pending. Even with the plea deal Aiden helped him get, it would be another five or ten years before he’d be released from jail. I looked at Dustin, running circles as Neil dug a moat, and my throat tightened.
I coughed. “How’d Cat end up in her basement?”
“Ross brought her over. After her chat with Kira at the grocery store, Cat figured out Ross was somehow involved with Dustin’s kidnapping and threatened to go to the police. He knocked her out, put her in the trunk, drove her to Hanover and left her in Lillian’s cellar.”
“Without her insulin.”
“He wanted her death to appear natural. When she died, he planned to relocate her body to a highway underpass so it would be found. Because she had been depressed he counted on the cause of death being believed accidental.”
“Bastard.”
“That’s putting it mildly.”
I swatted a fly intent on inspecting every pore of my face. “Yet, he let me do scent readings. Why?”
“He figured you wouldn’t be able to see much through Cat’s eyes. Nothing identifiable as to her location. No harm, no foul, and it made it look like he was cooperating.”
I thought about what a good actor he was—something I needed to keep in mind for future cases.
“But bringing Cat to Lillian’s freaked Lillian out. The more she thought about it the more concerned she grew. She drove to his house to confront him. He kept trying to reassure her it was the only way. That he had it all under control and that soon they would be well on their way to a new life. First he needed Ava…and to get rid of Kira. It’s when she drew the line.”
“She called Kira to warn her.”
“Exactly. She claims she didn’t want anyone else harmed. So when Ross went to the police station to file a missing persons report, she called Kira and told her to get herself and Ava to safety—and to ditch her car as soon as possible, because it had a tracker on it.”
I kicked a pebble, sending it skittering down the boardwalk. I didn’t know what to think of this information. That she had tried to save Kira, yet she had a dying Cat locked in her basement.
“According to Lillian,” Aiden went on, “Kira did ditch the tracker on her car.”
Obviously neither Lillian nor Kira had known about the one in Ava’s car seat. Smart criminals like Ross Bennett were the scariest kind. Always seeming to be one step ahead.
“However,” Aiden said, “Kira didn’t take Lillian’s advice in its entirety.”
“What’s that mean?” I asked.
“Lillian said that after dropping Ava off with me, Kira drove straight to the Bennetts’ house.”
A jet roared overhead, and I waited for it to go by before I said, “Why in the hell would she do that?”
“Lillian is sketchy on these details, because she’d already left, but Ross told her enough to put it together. An enraged Kira had shown up, knocked on the door, and demanded to speak with Cat or she was going to call the police…. Kira hadn’t quite figured out that Cat wasn’t in on the scheme. Ross was puzzled by her behavior, because,” Aiden explained, “he didn’t know she’d gotten a call that Caller ID identified as coming from his house, but then he took advantage of the situation.” Aiden paused. “Ross let Lillian know the next morning that Kira would no longer be a problem. He’d dumped the body and the car and was hell-bent on getting Ava and getting out of town as soon as possible.”
I took a moment to send cosmic thanks to Jeremy Cross and his security team. Without them, I wasn’t sure if we would have been able to keep Ava safe.
“Why would Kira go there? And why alone if she’d been warned?” It was so bittersweet that Lillian’s plan to save Kira had backfired terribly, luring her to her death.
“I don’t know, Lucy.” I heard the rattle of a Tic Tac box. “I can only imagine that she was still chasing the story. Maybe she figured she could get a confession out of Cat. I don’t think she had any idea the level of danger she was in.”
Over the next few minutes, Aiden filled me in on other particulars. Like when Ross went looking for the flash drive at Kira’s and couldn’t find it. He rigged the explosives so no one would. He’d hacked Kira’s laptop and found her passcodes, including the PIN of her debit card. He wanted the police to think Kira was alive and using her bank accounts. It seemed he’d thought of just about everything.
Except, perhaps, Lillian’s betrayal. It wasn’t until he learned about Lillian’s phone call when told about the phone records that he put it together. That was the night he tried to kill her. She’d been at his place when he attacked her. She somehow managed to escape him, but she’d been woozy, and had crashed her car trying to get home.
The accident had probably saved her life. Otherwise he would have tracked her down to finish the job.
“There’s another thing, too,” he said, sounding hesitant.
“What?” I leaned against a fence post, feeling the need to brace myself. I watched a small sailboat skim across crests.
“Lillian claims…” He broke off.
“Just spit it out, Aiden.”
Finally, he said, “Ross wasn’t only after Ava in that Shaw’s parking lot. He planned to get rid of you, too. He didn’t want you to be able to find Dustin or any of the other kids and figure out what he’d done. You spooked him when you proved your abilities.”
I tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. It wasn’t the first time someone had wanted to kill me, and it most likely wouldn’t be the last.
“Lucy?” Aiden asked. “You okay?”
“Yeah. Just wishing I’d hit him a few more times with that tire iron.”
I heard the Tic Tac box again as he said, “Me, too.”
“What happens now?” I asked.
“Lillian will stay in the hospital until she’s well enough to be locked up. With her plea deal she’ll serve five years before being eligible for parole.”
Hesitantly, I asked, “Does she know where the kids are?”
“No. Ross handled finding families for the kids. Other than pretending to be the mother giving the kids up for adoption, she didn’t know anything about the couples.”
I let out the breath I’d been holding.
“We’ll start tracing the money,” he continued, “and hope it leads back to the adoptive families, but Ross is clever and it’s not going to be easy. And you’ll keep working on trying to find the kids. It’s a shame you couldn’t get a reading from Dustin’s blanket.”
“It is.” The heat of a guilty flush crept up my neck, and I was glad he couldn’t see me.
The truth was that I’d found a couple of the kids already. They, like Dustin, had been placed with decent, loving families, who just happened to be wealthy and unable to have kids of their own.
It made me think that Ross Bennett might possess the tiniest bit of human decency. He’d done a good job of screening potential parents before taking their money.
It left me with a big moral dilemma. I could leave well enough alone and let the kids stay where they were…or return them to the lives they led before. If I did the latter, most would go straight back into the system, into foster care, especially the ones Ross had bought from parents willing to sell their children… And then there was Dustin.
His mother was dead.
His grandmother was dying.
His father was in prison.
There were no other relatives to take him in.
Dustin would become a ward of the state… Sure, he’d probably be adop
ted again, but when? How long would it take? How traumatized would he be after being pulled from a family he clearly loved after living with them for six months?
Tears stung my eyes, and I blinked them away.
If I told Aiden I’d found the kids, he’d be bound by law to do the right thing, to return them to the state.
I couldn’t do that to this little boy. Even though it was legally wrong, I fully believed it was the morally right decision.
“I’ve got to go,” Aiden said. “I’ll see you tonight?”
“Definitely. Dovie wouldn’t have it any other way.”
He laughed and hung up.
“Something wrong?” Patty asked as I sat down next to her again. “You looked mighty concerned at the end of that conversation.”
“Just wrestling with right and wrong,” I said honestly.
She patted my hand. “You’re speaking of Dustin’s situation?”
“Yes,” I said, not elaborating about the other children. I’d tackle those cases one at a time. Let my moral compass guide me.
Patty and Sean were the only people who knew I’d found Dustin. I’d gone to her with my findings and recommendation to keep Dustin with his adoptive family—and she agreed on one condition. She wanted to see him again and give him his blanket. We’d concocted a lame plan to get him the afghan, deciding to approach the family and randomly gift the blanket to the little boy…
“Look at him,” she said, her voice catching.
He’d fallen asleep on Cecelia, their bodies shaded by a large umbrella. The wind ruffled his blond hair, and his full cheeks were flushed pink. Cecelia rubbed his back, soothing him even in sleep.
“He’s loved.” A tear slipped from Patty’s eye. “He’s had that taken away from him once. It would be a travesty to allow it to happen again.”
My heart felt like it was breaking with the weight of my decision, but I knew she was right.
“Come on,” Patty said, standing up and clutching the handle of her oxygen tank. “We should go. I’m tired, and it’s a long drive. I’ve seen enough here to last me…forever.” Shuffling, she headed for my car.
“What about the blanket?” I asked. It was draped over her arm.
She lifted her chin. “I’ve decided to keep it. So I’ll always have a piece of him with me.”
I reached out and touched her arm. “You’re sure?”
“Very.”
Letting out a breath, I looked back at the little boy one last time. He stirred in his sleep, and his arms flopped to his sides. He was completely relaxed. At peace. Safe.
It was how all children should feel.
The weight on my chest lifted.
I linked arms with Patty and helped her to the car. I’d just turned the key in the ignition when my phone rang.
It was Sean.
When I answered, he said, “You’re not going to believe what I found, Ms. Valentine.”
“What?” I asked, intrigued by the smug tone.
“Kira’s flash drive.”
25
Later that night, long after the ceremonial shovel of dirt had been pitched, the party was still going strong. My garden looked fantastic. Tents housed tables of food (much too much), and twinkle lights stretched from one outdoor light to another, giving off a whimsical vibe. A portable dance floor had been set up, the scent of flowers and music filled the air. Dovie and Mac were doing the Hustle.
There might be evil people in the world, but here tonight there were only good ones gathered. This…was joy.
A sky full of glittering stars and a full moon hanging low over the ocean only added to the fanciful ambiance as I carried a slice of cheesecake up the porch steps and sat in the swing, setting it swaying.
Preston stuck her foot out, dragging it against the floorboards. The swing stopped abruptly, nearly pitching me off it. “No swinging. I’ve been getting motion sick lately.”
“Then a swing might not be the best place to sit.”
She pursed her lips. “No one asked you.”
I held up the plate. “I brought you cheesecake.”
The look in her eye softened, but she shook her head. “No thanks.”
“Are you sure? It’s the last piece, and it has the most amazing strawberry drizzle…”
She grabbed the plate. “This doesn’t mean I forgive you.”
“You know I couldn’t tell you. I couldn’t risk your health. The baby’s.”
She forked the cake and stuffed a bite into her mouth. “Doesn’t make me feel any less betrayed. Half the papers in town have already taken this story and run with it. Even if I did an article now, it certainly wouldn’t be front page news.”
I bit back a comment about how “half the papers” in town meant two. “I know.”
Looking back on it all, I was extremely grateful Preston hadn’t been part of this case. She was a damn good writer who probed her stories deeply. She might have figured out that I was keeping a big secret.
“What about those missing kids?” she asked. “There’s still a story there.”
My father had taken charge of the music for the night, which promised interesting selections. When “At Last” started playing, I had to smile as my father pulled my mother into a tight embrace. It appeared their doomed relationship had been given a reprieve.
I shrugged and tried to look innocent. “I’m working on it, but I don’t think it’s healthy for you to do a piece on missing kids. Do you?”
Preston glanced at Aiden, who danced closely with Em, whispering in her ear. She floated around the floor, a smile plastered to her face. “Do you think Aiden would let me do a story on him and Ava?”
“No.”
She shoved another bite of cheesecake into her mouth.
Ava was sound asleep in Raphael’s arms, and he looked quite pleased to have her there. Maggie was being twirled around the dance floor by Cutter.
“What about Jeremy Cross? Think Dr. Doolittle will throw me a bone?”
“No.”
Across the lawn, a competitive game of horseshoes was being played. Jeremy versus Marisol. Both looked like they were playing to the death. I wasn’t ready to give up on them.
Orlinda was deep in conversation with Suz Ruggieri, Valentine Inc.’s right-hand woman, and her husband, Teddy, was playing volleyball with Sean’s brother Sam and his family.
Nearby, Sean was chucking a rubber chicken for Mac’s dog Rufus, Scout, and Thoreau. So far, Thoreau had almost been trampled five times. Sean, eight.
“This sucks,” Preston said. “It’s the story of the year, and I have nothing. Nada. Zippo. It’s your fault. I had been thinking about naming the baby after you and everything. But now? No way.”
“The baby is a boy.”
She took another bite. “So?”
“What were you going for? Lucifer?”
A smile tugged the corner of her mouth. “Maybe. And no fair making me smile. You owe me, Lucy Valentine. Big time.”
“How big?” I asked.
“Huge. A cover story for the Mad Blotter. So keep working on that sniffing thing you do, and see something I can work with.”
“Huge, you say.”
“Enormous.”
“I see.”
She shifted to look at me and narrowed her eyes. “What?”
“What?” I echoed.
Her eyes widened. “What have you got? You’ve got something!”
“Maybe.”
She jiggled my arm. “Come on.”
“Promise not to name the baby Lucifer.”
Crossing her heart, she said, “I promise.”
I pulled a flash drive out of my pocket and held it up. “It’s a copy of Kira’s. I think you can do justice to the information on it.” The original had already been handed over to Aiden. Sean had found it while feeding the dogs. It had been in the bag of dog food Morgan Creighton had brought over.
The flash drive I held out to Preston held only the information on the other story Kira had been investig
ating. A top-secret exposé.
About a certain former hockey player who was suspected of running a banned-substance ring. Kira’s notes named names. Big names. Not just in hockey, but across all New England sports.
Kira had only been dating Trey to get an inside peek at his world, to get a story.
It made me feel so much better to know that they’d been using each other.
“What is it?” Preston asked, setting her empty plate on the porch railing and grabbing the flash drive.
“You’ll see,” I said coyly.
“I have to find a computer…” She glanced around.
“Not tonight,” I said. “Tonight is for celebrating.”
“Celebrating a big scoop!”
“Preston…”
“Fine,” she grumped.
I stood up. “I’m going to get a piece of cheesecake.”
Her pale brows dipped. “I thought you said that was the last piece.”
“I fibbed.” I motioned toward the house and smiled. “My laptop’s on my bed.”
She popped off the seat, looking healthier than I’d seen her in a long while. I moseyed to the dessert table, and was quickly cornered by my mother.
“Jeremy and Marisol, eh?” she bumped me with her elbow. “I’d say there was still hope.”
I set a piece of cheesecake on a plate, and glanced over at the horseshoe pit. Marisol was up in Jeremy’s face, arguing while pointing downward—some sort of horseshoe dispute. Her short black bob swung about her face as she gestured. He stood stock still, his arms folded, and kept shaking his head. The more he shook, the more animated she became. If he wasn’t careful, she might toss him over the cliff. “Made for each other.” I elbowed her. “You and Dad?”
She bit into a cream puff and tried to look uninterested. “He’s not half bad.”
It was the other half of him I worried about, but that was a concern for another day.
“I’ve been thinking, LucyD,” Mum said, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear.
“My cottage doesn’t need a solarium.”